


(Not So) Lonely This Christmas

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Dean isn't really looking forward to Christmas this year. But with a little encouragement (insistence) from Charlie, he might find the holiday spirit in ways he was never expecting to find it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angela7667](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angela7667/gifts).



> Hello! This is the result of a prompt from angela7667; enjoy!

Dean stares out over the yard at the back of his workshop draining the last of his coffee, rolling his neck and wondering how many more cars he'll see today. It's crazy how people still get to almost December every year without changing a single tire to prepare for winter, then wonder why they skid and slide across the road. He's had more weather-related car catastrophes this year than he thinks he has ever known in the entire time he's been in the shop. Even back when it was Bobby's, Dean is sure people were never _this_ dumb. Maybe it's a sign of changing times or just a reflection on how crazy the world is. But when Dean glances over the list of cars booked in for the rest of the day, he could happily fold his arms on his desk and sleep for several hours.

Coupled with hints from customers that the place just doesn't look _festive_ enough despite it still being late November, and Sam's constant comments about him working too hard, Dean could happily climb in his Impala and drive away from everything. Why people always need to cover every damn thing in _glitter_ just because it's the holidays is beyond him; it doesn't make them better people. Why does no one ever worry about people being lonely until _now_? This time of the year is supposed to bring out the best in people, but, Dean thinks, it's only because they don't try hard enough throughout the rest of the year and guilt trip themselves into making up for it.

It's an old argument that goes round and round his head with increasing pitch every year when Christmas descends leaving him wanting to yell. He settles for groaning, then does harder still when he can hear the telltale sign of an engine in trouble getting nearer. Dean raises up on tiptoe to look out the window, wincing as a car turns off the path coming into the back of his shop. One glance over it even at this distance leaves him barely holding back a sigh.

There is no way around it; the car being driven in now is butt ugly. It's a crappy gold colored Lincoln Continental, and from the sounds the damn thing is making, it hasn't had so much as a service in its entire life. Dean is already imagining carburetor problems, the oil black as anything, and all the brake pads being bald. Though when the owner of this pitiful excuse of a vehicle steps out of the car, Dean's entire focus shifts to him.

It's not often someone stops him in his tracks for how attractive he finds them, but as the man looks around the workshop before settling his gaze on him Dean feels a little stunned. Messy dark hair that looks like it's seen more fingers than comb, tatty blue jeans with a gaping hole at the knee, and an ACDC t-shirt that is either stretched from frequent washing or belongs to someone with a vastly different frame. Far too cold for this weather, but Dean appreciates the view, anyway.

When this stranger fixes his eyes on him Dean's firstly forgotten he's knotting and re-knotting an old cloth in his hands to clean them from the oil change he'd just been working on, and secondly jealous of the imaginary owner of this shirt. Whoever it belongs to gets to wake up to this guy every morning and get his hands on him on a regular basis? Evidence, Dean thinks, that this world is completely unfair.

"Hey," he calls, waving for the guy's attention when his gaze drifts around the workshop once again. "What can I do for you?"

"Perform a miracle, hopefully," the man replies as he comes closer, and _oh help,_ Dean thinks, for the gravel in his voice.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Everything."

"Anything, uh, specific?" Dean asks, catching himself smiling at the resigned look on his face.

The man waves an irritated hand behind him and sighs. "The constant noise. The temperamental steering. There is a strange grating sound any time I change the radio station that sounds like I have trapped a miniature goat inside the dashboard. I haven't had time to have it checked over in a while. I just stalled outside a client's. I think I frightened their dog."

"How?" Dean asks, not meaning to laugh.

"It was… loud. Extremely."

Even his scowl is beautiful, Dean thinks, catching sight of the stubble on his chin now they're closer and telling himself not to whimper for imagining it against his neck. Apparently, it's been _far_ too long since he's let himself as much as look at anyone if he's reacting like this for just a glimpse. "Let's take a look, huh?"

The man trails behind him at a short distance just off to his side watching Dean as he pulls out a notepad and pen from a back pocket. Though the distraction he provides from the task in hand only lasts seconds as Dean begins to circle the car; it's a _mess_. There is a burning smell Dean doesn't like and at least three things leaking. The back left tire has no tread at all, and a crack across the brake lights that leaves the broken bulbs exposed. And these are just the more superficial things he can tell from a quick walk around the outside of it; who knows what nightmares await under the hood?

"This is… are you sure you wanna fix this thing up?" Dean asks, with far more doubt in his voice than he means to show.

"I happen to like _this_ _thing_."

"Well. Beauty's in the eye of the beholder and all that, right?" Dean tries to joke for the indignant tone of the man's voice, only receiving a look of mild reproach in response. "Anyway. I think we'd need to do a full check-up on her. Looks like she might need the works."

And then some, Dean thinks, fearing the worst even before he's got a proper look. He notices then that the license plate is for Illinois; Dean shudders at the thought of driving this monstrosity any kind of distance, never mind that many miles to get from there to here in Kansas.

"How long do you think that will need?" the man asks, looking the car over as though willing it to work.

"I'd need to take a real good look at her. I'd say at least a week if I didn't have other cars, but this close to Christmas… honestly? I don't know if I can get her roadworthy before then. I'd be lying if I said I could."

Dean thinks it's going to take more work to fix this car than it's worth, but the man seems so determined. And who would Dean be if he didn't take on more than he could handle?

The man reaches up to pinch his eyes and sighs before looking at him again. "I suppose it is good that I don't need to go any great distance anytime soon."

"No Christmas plans?" Dean says before he can stop himself.

"None that require traveling."

"Okay then, Mr…?"

"Novak."

"Alright. Leave it with me," Dean says, already scribbling his name down on the pad so he can put together a quote for him. He tries to tell himself it isn't a hardship snatching his eyes away from the guy.

"You don't require any payment upfront?"

"Oh, I will," Dean replies, flustered, "but I think I should probably just get together a list of what she needs first. If you leave me a number, I can call when I've got a better idea of what she needs."

Mr. Novak scrawls his name on the top of the notepad Dean holds out, squinting out beyond the workshop and sighing. "Thank you."

"I'll… be in touch," Dean adds, watching him pull his phone from his pocket and shove it back in as though he is in a hurry.

"Thank you. I don't suppose you know of a taxi company. I am already late for… many things."

Dean nods, thumbing in the number on his own phone for Benny's place and handing it to him, avidly not listening as he makes the call. "You all set?"

"Yes. Thank you," Mr. Novak adds almost as an afterthought.

Dean's smile gets stuck on his face for the smile turned on him, staring after Mr. Novak like an idiot for several seconds when he leaves without another word before he can pick his jaw up off the floor.

***

" _C'mon_ , Dean, where's your Christmas spirit?"

Dean goes as dragged as Charlie tugs on his arm, trying to keep up with her enthusiastic pace. They're walking so fast that they almost collide with a couple passing as they round a corner, apologies in Dean's gestures for almost knocking into their bag-laden hands.

"Right up there with all my belief in all the other horse crap out there," he says, still looking back at the couple in apology, hearing their tuts even as they move away. So much for the season of goodwill, he thinks, huddling deeper into his jacket against the cold.

"No djinns?" Charlie asks, pointing out the Post Office they're heading to and her voice rising even higher in excitement.

"No djinns."

"No faeries?"

"Charlie. If I ever see a real-life faery, I'm gonna fight it. Just for existing."

"You don't believe in _anything_?" she asks, pretending to feign surprise.

"Not a damn thing."

"Dean," Charlie says in reproach. "Not even _Angels_? At this time of year?"

"You tell me one person we ever met in our lives that was anything like _angelic_."

"That bartender last weekend was pretty  _angelic_ ," Charlie says, looping her arm through his.

"The cute guy with the dimples?"

"No," Charlie says, slapping his stomach with the back of her hand. "The cute _girl_ with the pigtails and freckles."

"Oh," he replies, throwing an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. "And how was I supposed to tell if she was _angelic_ or not, when you were hogging her, spent half the night practically giving her a lap dance?"

"Jealousy will get you nowhere, Winchester. Now. Get inside."

Dean huffs for the shove to his back that sends him flying through the doorway of the Post Office, righting himself before he can fall. Everything about it screams _festive_ and makes him want to turn on his heel. There are garlands everywhere, a tree in the corner nearest the counter, and all kinds of other Christmas paraphernalia adorning all the walls.

His eyes land on the sign for Operation Santa which is exactly why they're here, and it's a close call that he doesn't run for seeing a row of Post Office staff dressed up as actual _elves_. Charlie's been doing this for a couple of years now, and this is the year Dean has finally caved, allowed himself to be literally dragged along to _volunteer_. He's skeptical, doubtful, and above all hoping he doesn't pick a letter with some outlandish request for a pony, or something. Sam did this last year and got a letter asking for a puppy which is, incidentally, how he and Eileen now have three dogs of their own.

"Alright," he says, purposefully grouchy, "let's get this over with."

"I'm gonna get you one of those hats with _bah, humbug_ on."

He copies Charlie as she digs in her pocket for her driver's license, then balks at the reams of paper that make up the application form to take part in this thing. Though the glare she sends his way stops Dean from voicing his protest out loud, promising himself his good deed for the day will be rewarded this evening by pizza, beer, and Star Trek. All that Charlie is providing. At her place, so he doesn't even have to clean up.

Though as Dean glances around he notices how many other people are either queuing up with their own forms or sat around a table with the biggest smiles on their faces as they read their letters. He isn't _against_ Christmas at all, or any of this, not really. He just knows once he gets sucked in he won't know when to stop. And if he thinks too hard about all the things that are supposed to come with Christmas like _family_ , and _togetherness_ , he knows he will feel like hell, so doesn't want to.

Dean imagines then all the extravagant and not-so-extravagant gifts he and Sam missed out on when they were growing up, all the times they spent pretending they weren't interested in all the toys on display in their local stores. Bobby and Ellen always did their best to give them and their daughter Jo the best of everything, despite money not stretching too far back then. Dean's still struck with guilt that he and Sam landed on them when their mom died and their dad took off with nothing to give them in return, even after all these years. Bobby did always say he wore the world on his shoulders from the age of four, but Dean thinks that's just because he forgot how to talk for a while.

"You're thinking _thinky_ thoughts," Charlie says, prodding at his forehead and getting his attention back to the task in hand.

"Yeah, well. Had to do something to pass the time waiting for you. Can you write any slower?"

"Oh, Dean," she replies in that patronizing patient tone she likes to use when winding him up, skipping away before he can retaliate.

"How many are you taking?" he asks, wondering if he should just pick one letter and buy a lot, or several and buy a little. Since he took over Bobby's when he passed he's made it into a decent enough business meaning he can afford to be generous, but this is the first time he's done something that feels so _personal_. Normally he just makes anonymous donations of food to the local shelter, or gives cash to whichever charity tugs on his heart any given day. This seems so _intrusive_ , really, reading the hopes and wishes of a random child that for all he knows he passes on the street every day. Though if he can make someone smile and doesn't have to go through the embarrassment of being _thanked_ for it, it's not that big of a deal, surely.

In a whirl of activity before Charlie can answer him, his details are checked, and Dean finds himself wedged at the table between a giant of a man whose hands are shaking reading his letter, and a tiny woman who is already sobbing at the contents of her mail. It doesn't bode well; Dean reaches for one of the baskets in the middle of the table and grabs a handful to sort through, debating with himself about the etiquette of putting requests back that are too expensive or outlandish.

Dean is enchanted from the first word.

The first letter he adopts is from a seven-year-old girl called Abigail who wants a gift for her grandma, who apparently never gets a gift at all. _She always knits things for everybody else, but no one knits her anything_ , he reads, pretty sure he can find _something_ that looks decently hand-knitted since there's no way he's knitting anything personally. She also wants some new paints for herself even if it'll _make mom real mad_ , and Dean snorts at the thought.

The second letter has him laughing out loud, coughing discreetly in embarrassment for the arched eyebrow he receives from Charlie across the table. Apparently, Sebastian's little brother is _stinky_ and needs _Captain America bath stuff_ to fix the problem. And while Santa's at it, _he_ might as well have some Captain America stuff as well. Dean claims that letter too, smiling at all the hand-drawn shields that decorate every former blank space of the page.

The third is a little more sobering, a fourteen-year-old who thinks he's too old to believe in Santa but wants to try anyway just in case. His dad is having trouble finding work leaving the family short of money, and though Dean doesn't exactly think he can post him a job in the mail like Corey is asking for, maybe there's a gift set or smart tie and suit or something he can put together to help a little with that.

The fourth is pretty straightforward, a boy named Kyle who thinks his dog's too skinny and needs a better jacket than his own. Dean reads between the lines and sees a family that is struggling, works out a quick budget in his head and thinks he can help them as well.

But the fifth one is the one that gets him, putting a thud in his heart and a sting in his eyes. _Dear Santa_ , he reads, _my name is Claire and I'm ten years old. This year is my first Christmas with Uncle Cas. It's just the two of us because my mom and dad had an accident. He takes care of me now. He says they're with the angels but I don't think angels would take away my mom and dad._

_We live in our house, and he pretends it isn't creepy sleeping in my mom and dad's old bedroom, but I know it is. Sometimes I hear him talking to my dad when he thinks I'm sleeping. I know he can't hear him anymore, but I think maybe Uncle Cas misses my dad even more than I do. Maybe it's because they are twins, and he thinks he can see him in the mirror sometimes._

_Uncle Cas is really good at making things. Our kitchen table he made as a surprise for my mom and dad when they moved here, and he makes old things look new again. He made my dresser look like I was a princess and he even made the mirror light up. Sometimes he makes furniture for other people here in our garage, and sometimes he works in other houses. He likes making kitchens for people._

_I think it's important you know who Uncle Cas is, because I know you forget about people when they grow up. Uncle Cas should have the best present ever because he moved all the way from his house to come here so I didn't have to move schools. He gets lonely sometimes because he works really hard and doesn't really know how to talk to people, so I don't think he has a lot of friends._

_I think maybe if he could have anything for Christmas, it would be a cat. I know we're not supposed to give pets for Christmas because people maybe will get tired of caring about them, but I know Uncle Cas will take care of them forever (and I'll help too). And a cat would be okay to stay at home alone for a couple of hours when we are busy, so long as they don't scratch all the furniture. And I think maybe it's easier to talk to a cat than a person, so maybe that will be good for him too._

_Uncle Cas keeps all my Christmas presents in a closet in the hall. I know, because that's where my mom and dad used to hide them too. He's got me lots, so I don't really need anything from you this year. I made him something at school and I saved my allowance so I can buy something too, but if you could give him a cat too I think that would be really nice. Because his cat before he came here got really old and he died, and I think he misses him. I like dogs better but Uncle Cas really likes cats._

_Anyway. My friend Molly says you're not real, but I think she's just stupid and wants to act like she's not a kid anymore. I know you are really really busy but I think Uncle Cas would be really happy if you got him a cat._

_Merry Christmas!_

Dean doesn't have any idea how he's supposed to get a cat through the mail, but he's going to do his damnedest to try.

***

Dean spends the next day shopping, feeling far more festive than he thought he would considering how against the whole thing he is this year. He doesn't think about all the work stacking up for him back at the workshop — not too much, anyway — as he first buys a hat, scarf, and glove set from a stall that says everything is handmade, and then enough Captain America foam bath and soap to satisfy even the stinkiest of little brothers.

He takes great pleasure in buying an extra large set of paints, struck belatedly by how little all these kids really asked for, for themselves. He puts two hampers together for the other Santa letters after a long conversation in a grocery store to make sure he was sending the right kind of thing through the post. He adds a couple of gift cards for both hoping they might help, then can't resist a few stocking filler things as well to add to the packages.

His final stop is in a pet store, staring at the display of dog jackets out of his depth realizing he has no idea what size to buy. He settles for yet another gift card, then finds himself staring at cat toys, wondering again how he's supposed to send a cat. Dean contacts a cat shelter when he gets home, flirting with the receptionist a little, though feels like an idiot when he's told that there isn't a gift card for adopting a cat. When she tells him it's because they need to vet the home first so there is no way to know if this mystery person is even suitable, he hangs up the phone frustrated that he hasn't found an answer.

***

He's still thinking about that final letter he's adopted when he arrives at Sam and Eileen's for dinner, leaping out the car with a pie tucked under his arm in a hurry to get into the warm house. He holds it high as he walks in to be greeted by three excited mounds of Labrador, taking his time to pet each of them in turn.

"How old are these flea balls now?" he says even as he scratches Padfoot between the ears. Prongs and Mooney continue their dance at his feet until they both get their turn.

"Just over a year," Sam says appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, patting his legs so the dogs will come running.

"How'd you end up with three again?" Dean asks as he makes his way through to the kitchen and signs hello to Eileen. It's not like it isn't a question he asks every time he sees them, or that he doesn't love each of these beautiful dogs as though they are his own.

"Couldn't leave just one in a cage."

"Right."

Dean fills them in on his day once they have shared theirs, gracefully taking Sam's teasing about being an old man when he refuses a beer because he has an early start. He perches at the end of the table peeling the last of the vegetables as Sam and Eileen put the rest of the finishing touches to dinner, sneaking scraps under the table purely because he knows how badly the dogs will fart once he's gone home.

"We had a joiner come by today," Sam says when they move through to the lounge, everything either in the oven cooking or bubbling on the stove.

"Oh?"

"We wanted him to put us together a quote for bedroom furniture. For the baby."

Dean's eyes immediately drop to Eileen's stomach where a protective hand currently rests. He cannot wait to be an uncle already; there is a huge pile of things he's already bought the kid locked up out of sight when Sam and Eileen come to his. "Gonna get everything done in time?"

"Well, get this," Sam says, throwing an arm around Eileen's shoulders. "Jody found a load of old stuff in her garage when she was clearing out. She didn't want it but thought maybe we'd be able to do something with it. This guy does upcycling as well—"

" _Upcycling_?"

"Yeah. You know. Taking something old, sanding it down, restoring it. We've got a full set — aside from a cot, which he's making from scratch."

"Awesome."

"Actually," Sam says when Eileen nudges against him, "he _was_ pretty awesome."

"He knows ESL," she says, her smile lighting up her face.

"This is his first Christmas here," Sam adds, squeezing Eileen's shoulder. "Says he moved here to take care of his niece or something."

Dean thinks of his Santa letter and thinks it must be a coincidence. "That's… good?"

"You might see him sometime soon," Sam tells him. "His car kind of died outside. Made the girls go crazy with all the banging and crashing."

Dean has a moment of thinking how chaotic this house is going to be with noise when there are three boisterous Labradors and a newborn baby, and then puts two and two together about the car.

"It wasn't a really crappy Lincoln by any chance, was it?"

"It was," Sam replies, laughing. "He manage to limp the thing over to you?"

"Barely," Dean replies. "Honestly? I don't think I'd even make him anything by scraping the damn thing. But he said he wants it fixing up, so. Guess I've got my work cut out for me."

"Yeah, I think it was a family car, or something? Maybe his brother's; I don't know for sure."

"Well. I don't know what I'm gonna do with it," Dean replies, thinking of the long, long list of things he found wrong with the car in just a few minutes of looking, almost dreading the call he'll have to make tomorrow with the price.

"That bad?"

"Worse. Hey, listen. This joiner of yours; doesn't happen to have a first name, does he?"

"You losing your touch, Dean? Can't even get the names and numbers of your clients these days? No wonder you're still single. _Ow_ ," Sam adds when Eileen elbows him in the stomach and glares.

"I got Mr. Novak. I just didn't get a first name," Dean replies, winking at Eileen in thanks for taking his side.

"Cas," Sam replies, pretending to pout at Eileen then laughing when she nudges against him. "His name's Cas."

***

Dean's got it all figured out. He's bought _Claire_ a stuffed dog toy complete with pet carrier, and has written in the gift card from the pet store to go with it that it's for _stuff for Uncle Cas' new cat_. He has no idea how much a kitten might cost but has put in a flyer from the shelter and a cheque to cover the cost of the adoption. All his gifts for Operation Santa, in fact, are wrapped, ready and waiting in the Post Office to be sent. Charlie is pissed at him for being done so soon when she still doesn't know what to buy for hers.

Dean plans on mentioning Claire's letter to Santa to _Cas Novak_ when he comes to see the car today, having talked himself both in and out of it in the couple of days that have passed since figuring out who he is. He's giving Dean the first down payment for the necessary repairs to that monstrosity of a car, and Dean is kind of excited to share his news. Part of it might be due to how attractive he'd found Cas on his first visit, yet Dean is adamant it is mostly the buzz he gets from the thought of doing something _nice_.

But when Cas arrives at the workshop looking exhausted and crestfallen, what Dean's first instinct is involves wrapping the man up in a hug. Since he doesn't think that would be invited and knows it's nowhere near appropriate he offers him a coffee, jokes about needing it to deal with all the work he needs doing on his car.

"How long will the car work after this?" Cas asks, sipping at his coffee and staring at the car.

"Gotta be honest with you, Cas," Dean says after Cas insisted he stop calling him Mr. Novak. "I'd probably have to strip her down to a shell and build her back up again to get you anything like a decent few more years out of her."

"Is it worth it?" Cas asks, turning to stare at him so intently Dean has to resist the urge to take a step back.

"If it was me?" he says, hand up at the back of his neck and squeezing for something to distract himself with. "Honestly, I don't think I'd bother."

"I need a vehicle."

"True."

"Though I suppose anything would suffice," Cas adds, sighing. "I don't drive a lot. Or far."

"There's a guy across town called Rufus who'd probably do you a good deal," Dean suggests, already planning on giving him a call and telling Rufus to go easy on this guy.

"I know practically nothing about cars."

"I could go with you," Dean blurts out before he can stop himself, and curses under his breath.

Cas stares back at him, head tilted and inquisitive, and making Dean twitch on the spot.

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," Cas replies, his words careful even if Dean thinks they might be tinged with hope.

"You wouldn't be. We'll just have to schedule something."

Which is how Dean finds himself cursing in the mirror on a cold Saturday morning for trying on every one of his shirts to find which goes best with his jeans. Reminding himself he'll be bundled up in a jacket the entire time, so it makes no difference at all.

Cas is already outside of his when Dean looks at the window, causing him to curse and gulp back his coffee in his hurry to get outside. He quickly locks up the house, casts a glance in the direction of the workshop, then jogs down the steps and waves towards the Impala on the drive.

"Morning, Cas."

"Dean."

Dean ducks in the car before he can do something stupid like  _like_ the way his name sounds in his voice. He starts the engine up immediately and blows on his fingers to blast away some of the cold, watching Cas flex his own beside him.

"You weren't waiting too long, were you?"

"No."

"I wouldn't have minding swinging by to pick you up."

"I am inconveniencing you enough."

"Hey," Dean says, ducking to peer out and make sure no cars are coming then turning out of the drive. "If it was an inconvenience, I wouldn't have offered."

"Thank you."

Cas' voice is small, and Dean decides it's because Cas isn't a morning person, not because he doesn't want to talk. He tries several subjects that get him one-word answers until he mentions Sam and Eileen, and Cas' eyes light up when talking about the project he is doing for them.

"So how long have you been working on stuff like that?" Dean asks as they pull up outside Rufus' almost wishing the drive was longer so he can hear more.

"All my life. I started making gifts — small things like jewelry boxes and small ornaments — when I was very young. My grandfather taught me."

"I guess I'm the same with cars," Dean replies as they climb out. "'cept it was my Uncle Bobby that taught me."

Cas hums in response, though his expression is a doubtful one as he turns to look at the cars. He looks out of his depth, Dean realizes, nudging against his arm and telling him to follow.

Cas has the worst taste in cars, Dean's sure of it. Even though he admired Baby and complimented him on how beautiful she was, for himself he picks out the ugliest truck he can find.

"You sure you want this one, Cas?" Dean says looking the thing over and holding back a sigh of exasperation.

"You tryna cheat me out of a sale, Winchester?" Rufus demands, though there is no real malice behind it.

"I'm just thinking of all the extra work it's gonna bring my way if you sell him a pile of crap is all."

"Something tells me you might just _like_ that," Rufus retorts with a purposeful look at Cas and a glint in his eye.

Dean fights against blushing or reacting at all, even when Cas turns to stare at him. "And for _that_ , you can throw in a free service for whatever he picks."

"You don't wanna give him a service _yourself_? Personally?"

Dean digs his fingers into his palms to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't, gritting his teeth as he stares back. Rufus holds the scowl on his face for a good ten seconds then breaks out into a beaming smile, clasping him around the shoulder.

"Damn Bobby. Teaching you all his crap."

"Yeah, well, it's _his crap_ that got me a business in the first place."

"You like this truck, Mr. Novak?" Rufus asks, with Cas already ignoring their conversation and continuing to look around the car.

"I do."

"Then let's step into my office, warm up a little. I'm sure we can figure something out."

***


	2. Chapter 2

Dean is smitten. It's coming up to the third week in December, and he has more work than he has time. Yet because life is a bastard all his thoughts are filled with _Cas_. He's known the man almost two weeks now, and _known_ is an exaggeration in this case. Though they have begun to message back and forth, and honestly, it's been the highlight of Dean's days.

Cas had bought him breakfast after they'd signed all the paperwork for the truck at Rufus'. It was there in a greasy diner Dean had told him about Claire's letter and an abridged version of its contents, and Cas' story had come out. His twin brother and his wife had died in a car accident eight months ago. Cas had moved states to be with Claire, leaving behind what sounds to Dean like just as lonely a life as the one he has here. There is a mention of a best friend who in his words is _threatening_ to visit him after the holidays, and an allusion to a relationship that's been over for years. But from all the things Cas isn't saying as he talks, Dean thinks it's been a long while that Cas has been alone.

Dean thinks Cas is hilarious — that he only needs to open up to someone a little first — though it's also possible that he might be biased. He feels like he's hung on his every word since they first started talking, and they've only met in person twice more since that diner; once to deal with scrapping that awful Lincoln, and once more when Dean had driven the truck over from Rufus' to be serviced.

Cas doesn't seem to be in a massive hurry for a car, though Dean thinks it's because it's the end of the year and work is slowing down for everyone. Even him, hopefully, finally working through the backlog of checking fog lights and putting on winter tires for what feels like the entire population of Lebanon.

Though Cas is coming in today to pick the truck up, and Dean is struck with the idea of making excuses to see Cas again now he's run out of practical reasons. He should just ask him to have dinner, or something, and stop being a coward, but the words keep getting stuck on his tongue.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean jolts and bangs his knees on the underside of the desk, cursing out loud as he pushes back. "I'm getting you a bell."

"Apologies," Cas replies, though is grinning at him, putting a cup of coffee and a grease-spotted bag down on the desk in front of him. "I thought perhaps you would need lunch."

"Pull up a pew," he says, smiling as Cas gracefully sinks into the chair across the desk from him, carefully peeling back the paper from his own sandwich and taking a grateful bite. "Hungry, Cas?"

"Starving," he says with his mouth full. "I forgot that Claire was taking food into school for a Christmas party, so got up extremely early to go to the supermarket first thing this morning — by taxi. We also took a taxi to school together; one of our neighbors has been taking her ever since the incident with my car, but we had too many bags to carry."

"You buy enough food for the whole class?"

"Apparently. As did most of the class. I hope they will have all worked off all that _sugar_ by the time they finish school."

"No time to eat yourself?" Dean presses, sure he can't have eaten anything all day.

"None. I had two clients to see, then came here."

"No wonder you're practically inhaling that thing."

Cas smiles with his cheeks full and shrugs.

"Well. At least you won't need to rely on anyone else for getting around anymore. That truck's solid."

"Yes. Thank you, Dean."

"Don't thank me," Dean says, laughing, "thank Rufus. He's the one getting the bill. I even threw in a full tank of gas."

"Then, I thank you both."

Dean shrugs it off and argues with himself about making excuses for a regular check-up of the truck just to keep Cas around.

"Actually," Cas says once he's finished his sandwich, neatly wiping his fingers on a napkin, "Perhaps I have a way of thanking you."

Dean's mind is already in the gutter. It is really hard to swallow his food as he fights to push certain images from his mind. He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles back as politely as he can. "Don't need to thank me, Cas."

"I told Claire that I had met the recipient of her letter. To Santa."

"Doesn't that kind of… spoil the whole Santa thing?"

"No," Cas replies with a private smile to himself Dean is desperate to know the reason for. "I told her that the Post Office employs many _helpers_. That you were merely making sure the letter was going to the right place."

"Okay."

"I told her," Cas adds, smiling harder, "that there was a sorting office for different kinds of gifts. That each helper was responsible for different things."

"So. I'm on pet duty?" Dean guesses, wondering how disappointed Claire might be if an actual cat doesn't show up gift-wrapped.

"Correct. And Claire would very much like it if you would join us for dinner. Tonight. To say thank you for your help."

Cas' eyes dart away but Dean convinces himself he caught a hopeful look in them before he turned. Dean's still a little lost for words, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Wow."

"Only if you aren't otherwise engaged," Cas adds in a hurry.

"Dinner sounds nice. Good. _Great_ ," Dean says, growing even more flustered.

"Could you be at ours for six?"

"I can."

Dean is even more lost for words for the triumphant look on Cas' face, taking far too long to snatch his eyes away. He clears his throat and pushes back from the desk, lifting up the trash can for them both to toss their papers from lunch into.

He beckons for Cas to follow and shows him around the truck, pointing out the small things he's done to fix it before handing over both sets of keys. Cas looks _pleased_ with it, which makes Dean happy. He turns to him with a gummy smile Dean decides is his favorite on him already, and thanks him once again.

"Do I need to bring anything tonight?" Dean asks, stalling for time and stuttering for anything else to say.

"Just yourself. Claire — _we_ — will be happy to see you."

Dean grins back at him and gestures for Cas to climb into his truck, waving after him as he drives out and humming as he goes back to work.

***

Dean takes an equally long time to fuss over his choice of clothes for the evening as he did when helping Cas pick a car, telling his stomach it isn't in knots as he drives over to Cas'. He has barely switched off the engine when he sees the front door swing open, and a beautiful blond girl practically dancing up and down on the steps waiting for him.

"Hey, Claire," he says as he joins her, waving as she then tucks herself behind Cas with a shy smile.

"Thank you for coming," Cas replies, showing him in and holding a hand out for his jacket. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Whatever you're having."

"I'll leave Claire to show you around."

The moment Cas disappears from the room Claire grabs his hand and tugs. "He likes gray ones and orange ones and tabby ones and black ones."

It takes Dean three steps up the stairs before he clues in to what she's meaning and once again wonders about getting Cas an actual cat. "I'll remember that."

"You need to pass on the message. To _him_ ," Claire insists.

"Uh. I will."

" _Look_ ," she says, gesturing at the glittering pink dresser in her bedroom that Dean remembers from her letter.

"Oh. That's really good."

"Uncle Cas can make _everything_ ," she tells him, already tugging Dean back out the room after pointing to the shelves, showing him the stool Cas has apparently made for the bathroom. She then leads him back down the stairs to where Cas is waiting, stood awkwardly by the couch.

Dean takes his offered beer and sits where Claire tells him, catching Cas' face light up with a blush as she interrogates him. He answers all of her questions as well as he can even if he has to embellish a few things about how he can be both Santa's not-so-little helper _and_ a car mechanic, thankful when Cas announces dinner is ready and Claire seems to have talked herself out.

Dinner is amazing, some potato and meat dish Cas tells him is a tradition in his family that Dean happily takes seconds of until he's fit to burst. His offer of helping to clean up is waved away with Claire already up on another stool Dean presumes Cas has made, ready to help with the dishes. He leans by the counter next to them when his offer to help gets refused a second time, taking advantage of Cas having his hands full and his attention elsewhere to check him out. He's wearing this navy blue shirt that is just perfect on him, rolled up to reveal tanned forearms and emphasizes how _built_ he is. Dean only looks away when his gaze lingers over his ass for a few seconds too long and Cas almost catches him do it.

"If you would like to stay for another drink; I just need to say goodnight to Claire."

Dean nods, sinking down into the couch to avoid being nosy and wandering around the room after Claire waves goodbye. It is definitely a family home, with traces of Claire's parents still everywhere, their smiles beaming out from several photographs. The tree in the corner is carefully decorated with a mixture of traditional and modern things as well as several pieces that are obviously Claire's handiwork. A warmth pools in Dean's stomach for all the effort Cas is going to for Claire, just before he tells himself he's an idiot for caring so much about people he doesn't know that well at all. Yet.

Then he wonders what it must be like for Cas to live here in his brother's home raising his daughter. It endears Cas to him all the more that it's so obvious he's making it work. Dean thinks of probably a hundred questions about Cas' life before here, what he thinks of Lebanon, and so many other things besides. But by the time Cas is making his way downstairs he doesn't have a single one he wants to ask. He watches Cas sink down on the couch beside him with a grateful sigh, and leans across the table to pass him his beer.

"Long day?"

"Not the longest," Cas replies shaking his head. "We got into the habit of reading a story together when Claire goes to bed. I always feel more relaxed after it as though I could fall asleep sitting up."

"I can go if you're tired?"

"No," Cas says quickly shaking his head and sitting more upright, "no, I'm not."

"How's she doing?" Dean says, gesturing towards the stairs. "What with Christmas, and everything?"

"She is very brave. And strong," Cas replies with obvious pride. "I wasn't sure she would accept me when I arrived here. I had a difficult relationship with Jimmy, my brother, and hadn't seen him in over two years. I expected Claire to reject me for barely knowing me, but I couldn't leave her alone, not after everything she's been through."

"She seems like she's doing okay?"

"She is doing exceptionally well. She barely missed any classes after the… crash, and has since continued to receive glowing reports from the school. I am very proud of her."

"She seems like a sweetheart," Dean replies, unconsciously smiling for that pride being evident on Cas' face.

"Yes. She is."

"You should be pretty proud of yourself too," Dean adds, to which he receives a confused stare. "You taking on your niece like your own, moving, setting up here, whole new life; that's nothing small either, Cas."

"Would you do any less for your family?"

Dean can only smile at that and shake his head. "True."

"Your brother. Sam. He and his wife have a beautiful home," Cas says then, and Dean gets the impression it's a deliberate change of subject.

"Yeah. They do," Dean agrees. "About to be made more beautiful by all this stuff you're making them."

"Only a cot. The rest is just an upcycling project so that everything matches."

"Still. Pretty impressive."

Cas smiles at that but is quick to change the subject yet again. Dean gets the impression Cas isn't used to talking about himself, which makes him want to know even more.

Conversation between them flows easily, covering favorite food, and movies, and even a heated monologue from Cas about everything he thinks is wrong in politics. His smile is bashful when he's finished his rant and Dean doesn't think his heart should be skipping like it is. Though there is something to be said for watching someone with such passionate conviction in their beliefs, and Dean can't help react to it.

Beers are replaced by coffee, and it isn't until Claire stumbles sleepily down the stairs in search of a drink that Dean realizes the time. It's almost one in the morning when Cas is showing him to the door, both of them apologizing for keeping the other awake too late. Dean is amazed that they haven't run out of things to talk about already, considering they barely know one another.

"I hope you're not too tired tomorrow," Dean says for what he thinks might be the third time as he hovers in the doorway shuddering into his jacket.

"I won't be. Perhaps a little sleepy on the drive to school—"

"You stay awake for that," Dean tells him with a pointed finger that Cas seems to think hilarious.

"Thank you for coming," Cas says when this ridiculous staring competition they've got going on seems like it won't end, and one of them has to break it.

"I'll… see you soon, Cas," Dean replies, hoping that he will.

***

There are only a couple of days before Christmas and aside from a couple of emergency tire changes Dean thinks he's done for the year. He helps Sam and Eileen with the last of their decorations and shopping, having already volunteered to cook dinner this Christmas. Part of him wants to invite Cas and Claire to join them on Christmas Day. He's known them less than a month but both have managed to worm their way into his heart. He's seen them twice more for dinner since that first time, inviting them to his the following evening to return the favor, and going back to Cas' the night after that.

The only reason he doesn't invite them anyway is because of a quiet moment between the two of them when Cas drops by the workshop. Dean has only been opening when someone calls him, yet Cas seems to know exactly when he is working, dropping off coffee and cake. Cas looks just as crestfallen and dejected as the second time he'd met him, and once again Dean is struck with the urge to give him a hug.

"Claire is doing so well," Cas says softer than Dean's heard him so far. "But every now and then the enormity of it hits her. We had a difficult night."

"I'm sorry, Cas."

Cas nods, eyes down on his crumpled coffee cup before he tosses it into the trash. "I think we need this Christmas. I think we need to experience it without them, together, for Claire to finally accept that they are gone. She has been speaking about previous Christmases with them and it's… it is far harder for her than I would like. I wish there was something more that I could do, but I can't."

"You're doing everything you can, Cas," Dean replies, reaching out and squeezing him around the arm.

Cas sags for it, and Dean takes that as a sign to wrap him up in a hug that Cas falls into, like he hasn't been held in months.

***

It's both presumptuous and perfect, Dean thinks, as he charges around the pet store late on Christmas Eve afternoon. The staff are all surprisingly jolly as they ring up his purchases of all the kitten stuff he could fit in a shopping basket along with an enormous bag of litter, and a pet carrier. He expected they might be mad for having to work so late on the last day before the holidays, but there are Christmas songs they keep singing along to, and all of them have suspiciously bright cheeks every time they lift a cup to their mouths, so he hopes he hasn't too badly ruined their afternoon.

Dean races home, hoping Charlie isn't too attached to his temporary houseguest, wondering if the gift he's got her for Christmas might be just enough to prize her away. He walks in to find her cooing over the cream-furred kitten with bright blue eyes that he picked up at the shelter late yesterday. He'd received a call from the flirty receptionist to say they'd received a litter in who were desperate for homes. This little guy he picked up at lunchtime after a check-up and vaccinations, with Dean not even noticing the receptionist's attempts to flirt in person. This kitten is none of the colors to Claire's specifications but Dean hopes Cas will like him alright.

Dean's already messaged Cas suggesting the three of them spend Christmas Eve together, the Impala already weighed down earlier with a ton of Christmas food. He is giddy and excited, and for once in his life feeling truly  _hopeful_. That elusive Christmas spirit has finally hit him, Dean thinks, watching the tiny kitten sleep.

"This _Cas_ must be dreamy if you're buying him half a pet store," Charlie says as she grins up at him, and it doesn't even make him scowl.

"Yeah, whatever," he says as he holds out a hand to pull her to her feet. "What time are you getting to Sam and Eileen's tomorrow?"

"Twelve?"

"Sounds good. Jody and everyone'll be there the same kind of time."

"What time are you getting there?" Charlie asks as she shrugs into her jacket and bends down to take a picture of the sleeping kitten.

"Probably about eight. Nine at the latest. Gonna put the turkey on here when I get back tonight and let it cook overnight. Shouldn't leave too much to do in the morning."

"You know, Dean, for someone who _hates_ Christmas, you sure need to do everything yourself to make sure it's done right."

Dean ducks away from the swat she aims at him and snags her fingers, squeezing her into a hug. "I don't hate  _anything_. Now. Get outta here."

"Just think," Charlie says as she heads for the door, the singsong tone of her voice surely a sign of trouble. "This time next year there'll be a baby Winchester."

"Yeah," Dean says, smiling at the thought of his future niece or nephew, "there will."

"And maybe, the makings of a little family of your own too," Charlie adds, the picture of innocence apart from the glint in her eyes.

"Out," Dean says, pointing at the door and laughing to cover up his blushes. "See you tomorrow."

"Kiss Cas for me, would you?" she calls as she makes her way down the steps. "One of us should be getting some festive action."

***

Dean arrives at Cas' at six giddy with excitement, having twice changed his mind whether to take the kitten in first or the food. He decides on the kitten, not liking how cold it is outside, even if the kitten could not be more snug wrapped up in a blanket in the corner of his carrier doing this adorable little stretch Dean can't help grinning for seeing. He carefully picks up the carrier, knowing there's no way he can do anything like hide it behind his back. But to his surprise, it's Claire that is opening the door with her mouth gaping open, staring at the kitten as though she can't believe his eyes.

"Hey, Claire," he whispers, "any way we can sneak this little guy in so your uncle won't see? I've got some other stuff in the car I wanna bring in first before I show him."

Claire squeals and grabs him by the cuff of his jacket tugging him through to a downstairs bathroom where he sits the carrier down on the counter as Claire peers inside.

"He's _beautiful_ ," she says in a loud whisper, finger already between the gaps in the plastic for the inquisitive kitten to sniff.

"Think he'll like him?"

"He'll _love_ him," Claire insists, beaming up at Dean, then to his surprise wrapping her arms around his waist.

"Just gonna go back out. You keep an eye, okay?" he says with an awkward pat on her head before he hugs her back.

Claire nods at him solemnly turning once more to the carrier, and Dean heads back outside. He makes one trip before Cas is running down the stairs apparently fresh from a shower, his hair sticking up in every direction and a sweater snagged on his hip where he's hastily thrown it over a shirt.

Cas apologizes over and over as he tidies himself up; Dean's convinced he's the most adorable thing he's ever seen. Though he laughs when Cas puts on flip-flops of all things to come to the car with him, shuddering at the cold as they reach the car.

"You'll freeze."

"We will only be minutes," Cas replies, already lifting up several Tupperware tubs from the trunk and hurrying back inside.

"Claire received her parcel from Santa," Cas says when they're in the kitchen as he looks over all the food Dean's bought. "Oh. This is so much."

"So? You can live on leftovers for a few days. Did she open it yet?"

"No," Cas replies, slotting what he needs to away in the fridge and offering Dean a beer. "I thought perhaps she could open it when you arrived. I'm curious; you never did say what you got her."

Dean grins, taps the side of his nose and shakes his head. "Well. Can she open it soon?"

If Cas hears the urgency in his voice he doesn't say anything. He calls to Claire who appears from the bathroom quietly closing the door behind her, standing there with a guilty look on her face as she looks between them both. She's going to be terrible at poker someday Dean thinks, winking in her direction when Cas says they will open a gift.

"It is only right that you have a gift too tonight," Cas says, pushing a parcel on to Dean's lap the moment he sits.

"Oh, Cas, you didn't need to."

"We wanted to. It's only something small."

"Open it," Claire insists, and from the look on Cas' face Dean knows she is the one that chose it, or at least part of its contents.

There is a Darth Vader soap on a rope, a mug with a Batman emblem on the side of it, and a six-pack of craft beer Dean remembers mentioning to Cas that he likes. There is also a Christmas card Claire has made him that Dean's cheeks ache for smiling at.

"Thanks, guys," he says, reaching for the bag he has down by his feet to pull out the last-minute gifts he'd bought for this evening, watching Claire rip the paper into shreds to get to her gift inside.

Claire is insistent she's going to wear her new princess pajamas covered in tiaras tonight, and Cas accepts the fluffy bees for his car with far more delight than Dean was expecting.

"You should open this one from Santa tonight too," Cas says, pushing the parcel Dean wrapped himself weeks ago into her hands. "You have lots more to open tomorrow."

Claire eagerly tears off the paper and squeals at the stuffed dog toy in its own carrier, immediately naming him _Sam_ , which Dean finds hilarious. She mouths along to the words he's written on the front of the envelope containing the gift card for the pet store he's just been in and watches her push it into Cas' hands.

"For me?"

"Yeah. For you," Dean says, darting his eyes to Claire who is still too busy fussing over her new dog to notice his slip up that he knows what's inside.

He watches Cas open the envelope with care, smile at the gift card with a picture of a cat on the front of it, and turn the flyer over in thought. "We will have to write to say thank you to Santa, Claire."

Claire nods in answer, but is still preoccupied.

"I'm sure he knows you like it. I mean, I hope you like it," Dean adds, suddenly worried that Cas might not want a kitten at all.

"Actually, I heard about this shelter," Cas says, waving the flyer. "I was considering going to look after New Year."

"Hold that thought," Dean says, jumping up from the couch and catching Claire's eye as she all but shoves the dog to the side, feet drumming back against the couch in anticipation.

He carries through the kitten who is now stamping around the carrier demanding attention, carefully lowering it in front of Cas where he's sat cross-legged on the floor.

Cas' eyes are wide in delight, and he's already snapping back the corners of the carrier to lift the kitten out before Dean puts it down. "Oh, he's perfect."

Dean grins, watching the kitten nuzzle against Cas' cheek for a moment, then runs back to the bathroom to carry the rest of the things through. "Just to get you started."

" _Dean_ ," Cas says, full of awe as he looks around at all the things Dean's bought. He carefully cradles the kitten in the crook of his arm and stands to draw Dean into a one-armed hug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Cas," he replies muffled into his shoulder before pulling back to see his smile.

Cas beams at him in disbelief freezing Dean in place, his arm remaining curled around his waist. Dean fumbles for where to put his hands, trying to disguise his awkwardness by scratching the kitten's tummy, and both of them laughing when he stretches and yawns.

"I know what we forgot," Claire announces as she too gets to her feet to inspect the kitten.

"What?" Cas asks, carefully lowering the kitten into her waiting hands.

"Mistletoe," she says looking up at them both with a mischievous grin.

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. He is is glad to see the same blush on Cas' cheeks as he feels on his own, untangling himself from Cas and bumping into the couch as he tries to move.

"I think that is the perfect name for the kitten," Cas says as he grabs Dean's hand to stop him from stumbling backward.

"What?"

" _Mistletoe_."

They don't need mistletoe as an excuse for kisses after Claire has gone to bed. Nor does Dean make it home to his own. He wakes in Cas' at six in the morning with a yell of, " _dammit. I forgot the turkey_ ," that reveals Cas isn't much of a morning person. He is then pinned to the bed for more kisses that make him later still, and endures a day filled with teasing for a late Christmas dinner and constantly looking at his phone. Though Dean thinks every moment of it was worth it, and that he might like Christmas after all.


End file.
